The Shaping Melody
by FiveForFighting09
Summary: Time, like music, marches on. Until it doesn't. Sequal to The Finding Symphony and third in the Leaving Rhapsody series.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's here!!!!! :) I would like to say a very very bid thanks to all those who review. I would also like to say a thanks to all those readers out there. I hope you are enjoying this tale so far. :)**

**And as always, I do not own anything you recognize. Except Probie. Who is right now laying underneath my desk and chewing _rather loudly _on his rawhide bone. **

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**Shape(-ing):** _something distinguished from its surroundings by its outline._

**Melody:** _succession of notes forming a distinctive sequence_

"Nervous?"

"A little."

"That's okay. I think everyone is nervous before the big day. I know I was when I was in your position."

"Huh."

"But really, don't worry. Everything will be okay."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure of it."

"I'm not so use to you giving me peep talks."

"After five years on the same team, I figured now was a good a time as any to return the favor. Besides, I don't think you want Ziva to come in here."

"Yeah, you're right about that."

"You know I'm right McGee, now go out there at kick some butt. Or, um, well I mean…"

"Dwayne."

"Sorry sorry. I'm rambling."

"Wilson-"

Tim jumped slightly when Probie barked. Not wanting to leave his trusted companion out, the German Shepherd was sitting regally by the door, a black bow tied around his neck.

"Alright," Tim breathed, mentally working hard to get the butterflies in his stomach to calm _down_, "Is it time?"

"McGee," Wilson said laughing a bit, "You aren't getting married for another hour. I think Probie is just excited as you are."

"But-" Tim was cut off as the door opened to let Jimmy Palmer enter the room.

"Hey Probie," Jimmy smiled and patted the dog's head. Probie gave Jimmy quick lick on the hand before settling back down. Tim smiled. It was almost as if Probie was working extra hard to keep his bow in perfect condition. The very thought made him laugh quietly to himself.

"What's so funny?" Palmer asked, smiling.

"Nothing," Tim shook his head. He didn't want his friends to think that he was suffering a mild psychotic break.

"You nervous?" Palmer asked quietly.

"Yes," McGee answered simply, knowing that both his friends knew him well enough to know when he lied, "Am I suppose to feel that way? I mean if she's the one, don't you think that would mean I wouldn't be feeling this way?"

Jimmy shrugged, "I almost threw up before my wedding."

Wilson turned, raised an eyebrow at that, "Really "Mr.-I'm-So-Calm-and-Collected"? You almost lost you lunch?"

Jimmy smiled bashfully, turning his head to hide his embarrassment, "Yes. And what about you Dwayne? I beat you were nervous?"

Wilson shrugged good naturedly, turning back to McGee, "A little. Maybe. But Tim, every guy is nervous before their wedding. You just have to remember one thing."

"What?" Tim asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"If you faint," Wilson worked hard to keep the smirk off his face and keep the serious look on, "I will never let you live it down."

McGee smiled, thankful that Dwayne was at leash trying to settle his nerves, "So I'm assuming Dwayne that you have arranged for me to somehow get to the church?"

Dwayne nodded, bumping Palmer in the shoulder, "We both did. It wouldn't be right if I didn't fulfill my best man duties. Now come on. We have," Dwayne glanced at his watch, "Approximately fifty two minutes before I have to get you to the church. Because the bride to be would kill me if you arrived late."

"Wouldn't be the first time I was late to something important," Tim muttered with a smile on his face, "We just need to head to the dry cleaners to pick up-"

"Already got it," Wilson said, "Now hurry up! Daylight's wasting!"

McGee huffed in laughter following his friends outside, Probie staying close by his side.

Glancing at the limo that was in front of his house and seeing Gibbs and Ducky waiting patiently for him, it was times like this that he missed Tony the most. After that day just over two years ago that he had almost been killed because of his obsession with finding Tony, Tim had vowed to start living his life only because that's what his friend would have wanted him to do.

And then as the months had passed, Tim had started to realize that he wasn't just living his life because Tony would have wanted him to, he was living his life because _he_ wanted to.

And that's how he had met his bride to be, Natalie. She was cashier at one of his favorite bookstores and every time Tim went there, he found himself waiting longer and longer in line just so he could go to her station when it was his time to pay.

Natalie who must have realized McGee's pinning after a few weeks, stopped him dead in his tracks one day when he was paying for his purchase.

"Would you like to go to a movie with me Tim?"

McGee admitted that he had opened and closed his mouth a few times before nodding his head. Natalie had merely laughed at him before giving him a time and her address, telling him not to be late.

Well, he had been late. Horribly. A case had been called in and Tim hadn't made it to Natalie's house till two hours after he was suppose to show up.

Natalie had opened the door and slammed it in his face when he had opened his mouth to speak.

After that, two or three weeks went by and no matter how hard Tim tried, he couldn't get Natalie to talk to him.

Having never felt the kind of hurt he felt during Natalie's silence, Tim had one day camped out in front of her door, waiting all day for her to arrive home.

When she had, she had immediately reached for her pepper spray, especially when she caught sight of Tim's gun, but Tim had nervously placated her, showing her his federal ID and badge. Even then, the gestured hadn't helped much.

"Why were you late?" Natalie asked, glancing at his badge once again before ever so slow placing her can of pepper spray back in her purse, "Did it have something to do with your job?"

"Yes," Tim said, "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you that when you gave me the time. I was just…I hadn't…" Tim had tired searching for the words but had come up short.

Natalie had laughed at his expression, before placing one of her hands in his, "I forgive you Tim. But next time if you're late and don't call me, I'll never speak to you again."

Tim had smiled at that, feeling almost giddy as Natalie dragged him towards his car.

"Um," Tim said seconds later when he was sitting behind the wheel, Natalie in the passenger seat, "Where are we going?"

"Well," Natalie said, "Considering that I know for a fact you have been sitting on my porch all afternoon, I thought lunch would be a good place to start."

And Tim had smiled, turned the key and headed towards the nearest restaurant.

Now, a year and a half later, he was finally marrying her.

Tim hurried to put on a clean shirt and through on some pants over his boxers.

He laughed seconds later, realizing what Tony would probably say at this.

He had finally found a girl that didn't want to hurt him, use him or kill him.

Tony would have been proud of him.

Checking his pockets for his phone and keys, Tim stepped into the limo with his friends who had become like family, all the while hearing the whispers of the words Tony had said to him a long time ago.

_It's like leaping off a cliff Probie. It's always more fun when you jump with both feet._

And Tim hadn't understood it then, but now, realizing that soon he was finally going to marry the women he loved, Tim only hopped he was that much closer to understanding what Tony had meant.

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**A/N2: Next update should be up soon. I have no idea when for I have TONS of stuff to read for school. But it will be up before Tuesday (we're shooting for Sunday night). Also, if you didn't catch it in the story, this is about five years after Tony went missing and two years after Tim stopped obsessing over his disapperance. **

**Please tell me what you think. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews for the previous chapter and thanks to all those who are enjoying reading this story. Sorry I didn't get around to personally responding to your reviews, it was do that or get this chapter ready (darn you college) so I am sending a hug to everyone. lol**

**Quick word before ago, for those of you who watch NCIS:LA (stop if you didn't see Tuesday's episode and don't want to be spoiler-fied) you'll know what I'm talking about. Anyway, I was watching it and the way the episode ended I was like "_WHAT!? YOU CAN'T END IT LIKE THAT!! WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM??? HOW CAN YOU LEAVE US HANGING LIKE THAT?! AHHHHHHH...." _and then I stopped mid rant when I realized I have been doing the exact same thing to you guys. And I felt horrible about it...for about a minute. Then I recovered. SO. Hope you enjoy the chapter. **

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Chapter Two

"Tim."

"Tim come on you're gonna be late."

"Timothy McGee, if you do not wake up this moment I will let Probie chew on your manuscript."

"Hmmm," Tim opened his eyes, smiling as they connected with his wife, "Are you sure the honeymoon's over?"

Natalie smiled, slapping McGee on the chest, "Yes. Now get dressed and go before Gibbs' calls you. I don't want you to be late on your first day back. Now get up now and I'll make you a bagel."

Tim rolled out of bed, heading for the shower, rubbing Probie's head along the way. Probie licked his hand in greeting before following his wife out of the room.

His wife. McGee still got a little giddy anytime he thought that particular thought.

Hurrying with his morning routine because he _was _running a bit late, McGee buttoned up his shirt as he walked downstairs, "Smells good."

Natalie smiled, handing him the bagel with a kiss on the check, "I love you. Be safe Tim."

"Love you too," Tim smiled and kissed her back, giving Probie one last pat before he headed outside and started his car.

He was about two minutes away from his house when his phone dinged, signaling he had received a text message.

_And if you know what's good for you, you will text me if you are going to be late for dinner. Love you._

Smiling, Tim tapped out a quick, _Yes. Love you too,_ before placing his phone back in its holster and focusing on his drive to the Navy yard.

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"Tim!" Wilson's head popped up from behind the dividers, reminding Tim of a meerkat coming out of his hole, "You're back!"

Waiting for Tim to enter the bullpen, Wilson slapped the Senior Field Agent on the shoulder, "Did you have fun? Three weeks is a long time McGee, I got to tell you. Director Vance wouldn't put us on rotations because Boss wouldn't sign off on a TAD and me and Ziva have been through so many cold cases files I stopped counting after the first day!" Dwayne walked around, behind and on every side of Tim as he neared his desk, possessing that same uncanny ability Tony had always had of being able to invade someone's personal space without ever really getting in the way.

"Glad to be back Wilson," McGee laughed at his friend and coworker's antics before accepting the hug Ziva gave him.

"I'm glad that you're back," Ziva smiled, her greetings much more sober than her coworkers.

Tim raised his eyebrows in astonishment, "Two contractions in one sentence Ziva? Impressive."

Rolling her eyes and smiling at him as she walked back to her desk, Ziva responded, "I have been in this country for close to a decade Tim. It seemed about time don't you think?"

McGee nodded in response before turning on his computer, drinking his coffee as the PC booted up. He still had to run down to Forensics and Autopsy to say hello to Abby, Ducky and Palmer. But Gibbs was bound to be in the office any second and he would like to greet his Boss before continuing his greetings.

Besides, Tim thought, if he left and Gibbs entered the bullpen without Tim sitting at his desk, Gibbs would have his head.

"Special Agent McGee?"

Tim lifted his head, his eyes landing on a small petite woman who stood in front of his desk.

"Yes?" He asked, not recognizing her and not seeing a visitors badge anywhere on her person, "How may I help you?"

"Thank heavens," the woman sighed, her shoulders dropping in relief, "I'm new here, just started a few weeks ago and I'm still trying to figure out how everything is laid out around here and no one here wears name tags, not that that's a bad thing I'm just saying that it makes for learning everyone's names all that more harder because I understand how one would get annoyed, especially if someone keeps asking your name over and over-"

"Gear up," Gibbs said, cutting off the woman's monologue as he entered the bullpen, "Ziva, gas the truck, Wilson go get Ducky."

"Um," Tim stood, grabbing his gear and placing his gun back in his holster, "If you'll excuse me, I have a case…"

"Oh um," the woman bit her lips, glancing at the paper in her hands.

"Tim!" Gibbs called out, already at the elevator waiting for him.

"I should be back in a few hours," Tim smiled apologetically, "Swing by my desk then."

Giving the woman a wave, Tim hurried into the elevator, keeping his head lowered, not wanting to get Gibbs slapped for taking so long to respond to his call.

But instead of a slap, Tim was happily surprised to feel Gibbs give him a pat on the back.

"How did it go?" Gibbs asked and Tim swore he could see the beginnings of a smile on Gibbs lips.

"Good," Tim replied, still watching for that famous Gibbs' slap out of the corner of his eye, "It was nice to go away for a bit. Haven't had a vacation in years."

Gibbs huffed, "Yeah, I know what you mean. Though Ziva and Wilson didn't particularly like sniffing through Cold Cases."

"No one does," Tim smiled, "Well, except for maybe Tony. I don't think he minded them as much."

At this statement, Gibbs laughed, "No," he shook his head and stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened, "He hated them just as much as the next fella. But he always kept the mood light, so it seemed as if he didn't mind them. But back when it was just me and him, he hated not having any active cases. He was always much more agreeable when he had someone else to mess around with. "

Tim smiled but didn't respond. He had never found out much about what it was like when it had just been Tony and Gibbs, and not even Kate, when she had been alive, had known much about it either. From what he could gather, Tony and Gibbs had worked for at least two years before Kate had been added on and in that time frame they had gone through numerous agents and according to comments Ducky sometimes made off handily, had gone through many time spans in which it had just been the two of them.

Arriving at black Charger, Tim huffed before sitting in the backseat, Wilson already sitting proudly in the shotgun seat. Ziva, who had probably lost at paper scissors rock, sat next to him as she glared at the back of Wilson's head. Tim, being the smart man that he was, gave her enough space that in the event she should attack him, he at least had a fighting chance of evacuating through the side door.

"Lost a bet?" Gibbs laughed, starting the car and leaving the Naval Base.

Ziva huffed in response and Tim worked hard to conceal his smile. Ziva turned and glared at him and even though they had been away for a few weeks, McGee found it comforting how quickly they fell back on their team dynamic.

And when Wilson started animatedly talking to Gibbs about a sports game he had seen on TV, Gibbs ignoring him completely, McGee let his thoughts wander as familiar voices filled the car.

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**A/N2: And because someone asked, no, no one guessed the boat's name. But yes, you will find out what Gibbs named it. PLEASE REVIEW! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I would like to give everyone out there who reads this story a hug. And to those who review: Thank you! :) So sorry I can't respond to them individually but I'm trying (college is a pain in the butt) and thanks for reading! **

**BTW, a quick word on Tuesday's episode _*stop readying if you don't want to read some spoilers*..._so Tony goes to a therapist? What kind? Hmmm...Oh, and that lawyer chick...who else wished Gibbs had shot her upon entering his house? lol juuust kidding....**

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Chapter Three

"What happened to this shirt?" Natalie peaked into Tim's study, the shirt in hand.

"I ripped it tackling a suspect today," Tim said quickly, trying to appear consumed in his work.

"Uhuh," Natalie responded, lifting an eyebrow, "I'm assuming Ziva and Wilson will corroborate that story?"

Tim turned, facing his wife. She had an expectant expression on her face and Tim bit his lower lip. How could she tell when he was lying?

"I tripped," Tim finally said, "My shoe got caught on a bump in the sidewalk and my shirt got caught on something. And please don't call Wilson to confirm my story. It took all day for Wilson to look at me and not burst into laughter."

Natalie smiled at Tim, "Very Special Agent Timothy McGee taken out by a bump? I could see where Dwayne would find that a bit comical."

"Wilson finds everything comical," Tim pouted, turning to stop facing his wife and instead looking back at his type writer, "Most the time though, he keeps it to himself."

Laughing at him as he pouted, Natalie smacked him good naturedly on the shoulder before walking out, leaving her husband to his writing.

Letting out a deep breath slowly, Tim twiddled his thumbs, figuratively, trying to find some inspiration. His fans were waiting for the next book in his Deep Six series but even veiled threats on his answering machine left by his agent hadn't helped him any.

He just didn't have anything to say anymore. Sure, he could come up with tons of stories and take his characters through plot line after plot line, but in the end it didn't matter because he would hate himself for writing something that he didn't particularly want to say.

Picking up another rough draft and sending it through the shredder, Tim jumped when he suddenly felt a cold wet nose touching his exposed calf.

"Probie," Tim said, giving his beloved German Shepherd a nice rub down, "I didn't even hear you walk in."

Licking his hand in return for the rub, Probie placed his chin on Tim's thigh, looking up at his master with deep brown soulful eyes. Tim laughed at him.

"Fine," Tim said finally, never have been able to resist that puppy dog look, "Go get your leash."

Doing a quick about face and hurrying out of the office, Probie disappeared down the hall and into the laundry room, no doubt getting his leash from the hook.

Tim walked to his room and put on a pair of sweats followed by his tennis shoes.

Maybe a run was exactly what he needed to help clear his mind and inspire him to write something worth saying.

* * *

"Special Agent McGee?"

"Oh," Tim said, smiling, setting down the files he had brought up from Abby's lab on his desk, "I'm sorry for leaving so quickly. I meant to look for you when we got back from the crime scene but we were never properly introduced."

"My name is Morgan Smith from the PR department," the woman, who Tim know knew was Morgan Smith, smiled, "And I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. We've been a bit swamped and Julie just went on maternity leave and her fill in is proving to be more of a harm than a help…"

"Was there something you needed to tell me?" Tim cut in as politely as he could. This Ms. Smith could be long winded at times and McGee wondered if she was at all related to Ducky…

"Ah yes," Ms. Smith said, coming back to herself, "Sorry about that. I tend to get a bit sidetracked sometimes."

"No problem," Tim smiled.

Morgan Smith smiled before biting her lips slightly and glancing at a paper in her hand, "Anyway, about three weeks ago, which was just around I started here actually, I took some messages that was suppose to be forwarded to you but because you were currently on a vacation and because the phone systems were down that day, I took hard copy messages."

Tim looked from the papers to Ms. Smith expectantly, silently hopping she would finish what she had to say before Gibbs came back from Vance's office. When he did, he was pretty sure Ms. Smith wouldn't be allowed another word in edgewise.

"However," Ms. Smith continued, "I had to take many messages that day and I have been trying to pass them out in the order in which they were received, not an easy task mind you, because many people are never in the place that the directory says they should be."

Tim smiled. The PR secretaries were always busy, having to deal with almost all the calls that were received by NCIS. They had the job of weeding through the important and the not so important while also making sure to direct calls to their appropriate places and apparently, taking messages when the phone system went out.

"Anyway," Ms. Smith's voice brought Tim's focus back to the conversation, or more appropriately Ms. Smith's monologue, "Here you go. You received four messages from that time and here they are."

Accepting the small pink papers with a thanks and a nod, Tim said his goodbyes to the somewhat odd secretary before looking down at the papers in his hand.

"McGee," Gibbs' voice rang out as he walked down the stairs, "Grab Wilson and head on over to the victim's house. Make sure you talk to his CO before you leave the base."

Folding the pink message papers in half and placing them in the top drawer of his desk for later, Tim grabbed his badge and his weapon.

"Um Boss?" Tim asked, looking around the bull pen.

"Yeah McGee?" Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and looked above his reading glasses at his Senior Field Agent, "Is there a problem?"

Tim paused momentarily, glancing around the bull pen, "Where's Wilson?" Tim asked.

"Check Abby's lab," Gibbs responded, before looking back at his papers, signaling that the conversation was over.

Tim nodded his thanks, knowing that somehow Gibbs would see it even if he wasn't directly looking at him, before taking the stairs to Abby's lab.

"Wilson," Tim called out into Abby's seemingly empty lab, "Wilson!"

"McGee," Wilson said, coming out of his hiding spot from behind Abby's desk, "Thank heavens it's you. For a second, I thought it was Abby coming back from Ducky's."

"What the heck are you doing on the floor?" McGee asked, peering around to see just why his junior agent was crouched on his knees.

"I was trying to hide Abby's birthday present," Wilson said quickly, "I hide it, she finds it, I've been doing it since her first birthday that I was on the team."

"Uhuh," Tim nodded, "Still doesn't explain-"

Tim paused, midsentence when he got a closer look at what exactly Wilson was working so hard to pick up.

"What," Tim tried to speak but was caught off guard by the emotion that quickly spread through him, "Is that-"

"I didn't mean to," Wilson said, working all that more frantically to pick up the pictures, "I mean, I've never hidden anything in here before and she's never said anything about it so I didn't think there was a problem until I opened the box and bam, all this stuff spills out."

Bending down on one knee, Tim quickly, and carefully, helped Wilson pick up the last of the pictures before putting them back in the box.

"Don't touch these again Wilson," Tim said, standing and helping the younger man up on his feet, "I don't...I…Just don't mess with them again."

His eyes big, Wilson nodded before hurrying out of the lab, "I'll get the car!"

Tim sighed, looking back at the closed drawer, before he too walked out of the lab. He hadn't known Abby had kept track but if McGee was honest with himself, he wouldn't have expected anything less.

Hurrying up the stairs, Tim tried to figure out just why exactly his eyes had burned and his heart had momentarily stopped back in Abby's lab.

It hadn't been the photos, because Abby still had a few of pictures of Tony around the lab, though with each passing year Tim had noticed that one by one each one disappeared only to be placed into what Tim now knew was the box in the bottom drawer of one of Abby's desks.

No, Tim shook his head, it hadn't been the pictures that had made these emotions rise in him. It had been the number that had been written on the eraser board on the very top of the box.

_One thousand, nine hundred and sixty seven days._

That's how long it had been since they had last seen Tony.

Opening the door to the parking lot and looking for the black Charger that had Wilson behind the wheel, Tim tried to shake off the number that was haunting his brain and instead focus on the case at hand.

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**A/N: I'm not going to tell you how many years/months that is. Use those brains people! (Or a calculator, which ever is more convient for you, especially if you have one on your computer...)**

**Hopefully, the next chapter will be up Tuesday. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** **Sorry guys. Tried to get this up as soon as I could but Real Life got in the way. A slow weak ahead (hopefully) so next update should be no later than Wed, (hopefully Tuesday since there wont be a new NCIS this week...) but before I forget. Thanks to all the reviewers and lurkers out there!!! I appreciate you all!!**

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Chapter Four

"Why the long face?"

"Leave me alone."

"Awh come on. I didn't even get to finish the joke."

"Not right now."

"Well, considering how it's not my fault I'm here, I'll just come right out and ask. Why you are mad at me?"

"Because," Tim said, turning to face Tony, "I thought I had finally let you go, gotten on with my life. Bought a house, got married, actually wrote two more books. But now your back here. In my room. And knowing my luck, Natalie will walk in and see me talking to someone who has been AWOL for one thousand nine hundred and sixty seven days."

Tony smirked, working very hard to not laugh, and raised an eyebrow, "And how is that my fault?"

"We've had this conversation before," Tim sat down in his office chair, "I'm going freakin' crazy," Tim rubbed his face

"Naw McGee," Tony laughed, "I don't think you're crazy. You just…well, when you think about me a lot, this is how your mind decides to deal with it. I bet it has something to do with all those RPGs things you do."

Tim rolled his eyes. Even as a imaginary character, Tony could still annoy him, "I don't play those anymore Tony."

The smile on Tony's face slowly morphed into a smirk, "Whatever you say McLiar."

Glaring at the man, Tim quickly changed the direction of the conversation, "Is this about the number I saw in Abby's lab? Is that why I'm seeing you again?"

"Yep."

"Wow. You're a lot more helpful than the last time I just imagined you," Tim said, "I'm not use to direct answers from you."

"No," Tony shook his head, the smile back on his face, "I told you. I only answer questions that you yourself know the answer to. So when you asked-"

"Is the number right Tony?" Tim asked, sobering the mood instantly, "Because if it was…"

"When have you ever known Abby to be wrong McGee?" Tony answered, the smile still on his face but not in his tone, "It's okay to lose track of the days."

"No its not!" McGee yelled, glad that Natalie was at the store and not in the house where she could hear him yelling at thin air, "One thousand nine hundred and sixty seven days is over five years Tony. I never thought…"

Tony quirked an eyebrow, "What McGee? That you still wouldn't know what happened five years later? Or that you would be happy and okay even after five years of not knowing?"

"I stopped," McGee shook his head, "You said…I mean…I didn't stop missing you Tony, I just…I couldn't do both anymore. Looking for you was becoming…destructive. And I stopped."

"Good," Tony said, "I never said that stopping was what caused this. So stop feeling guilty."

Tim sighed, "Gibbs still has the boat in his basement."

"Really?"

Tim nodded, "Yeah. I don't think he can get rid of it. That or he just doesn't know who to give it too."

Tony chuckled at Tim's commented before responding, "I like the name by the way."

Tim let out a bitter laugh, "Yeah well, don't let your ego get to big. It's just a coincidence you were named after a saint."

"Ah yes, but he could have just named it _Anthony_ or _Tony_," Tony smiled, "But no. He named it _Saint Anthony._"

"Saint Anthony is the saint for missing things or missing people," Tim said, grimacing, "Pretty tragic isn't it?"

"Huh," Tony seemed surprised to hear that fact, "Didn't know that, Kate would've though. But I don't think it's tragic."

"And why is that?" Tim asked, rubbing his face, already feeling tired, "Your name is Anthony. The Patron Saint for lost items and missing people in Saint Anthony. The boat sitting in Gibbs' basement is called _St. Anthony._ And the person he named the boat after is missing. You are missing."

"More ironic, if you ask me," Tony said, shrugging, "Besides. If Saint Anthony could find anything, why don't you put the boat into the water and see where it sails?"

"That's not funny Tony," Tim glared, "I'm pretty sure if we couldn't find you, a boat sailing in the ocean won't have much luck."

"True," Tony acquiesced, "I guess you're just going to have to wait and see then."

"Wait and see for what?" Tim raised an eyebrow.

Tony's face lit up in a genuine smile, "Now if I told you that, I'd ruin the surprise."

"You know something I don't?" Tim asked, a feeling of something akin to hope forming in his gut.

As if sensing the other man's emotions, Tony just gave a smaller, but still true, smile, "Come on Timmy. I can't know anything more than you can."

"Tony don't-"

"Tim!"

Tim opened his eyes to Probie panting in his face. He had fallen asleep in his office again and judging by the lack of light streaming in his window, it was still late.

"Yeah?" Tim yelled back groggily, rubbing his face before standing and popping all the kinks out of his back as he walked towards the sound of his wife's voice.

"Come here."

Hearing the slight hysteria in Natalie's tone, Tim hurried to their bedroom, only to find Natalie presumably absent.

"Nat?" Tim called out, wondering if the reason for his wife's hysteria was her recently acquired ability to become invisible.

"In here," a voice ran out slightly to Tim's left.

Pushing his way past Probie who was fervently licking Natalie's hands and arms, Tim knelt down, "Honey what's-"

He stopped however, when his eyes landed on the word in front of him.

"Is that-"

"Yep," Natalie responded, not needing Tim to finish that sentence.

"Are you-"

"More than likely," she said, once again cutting off her husband.

"Does this mean…" this time Tim trailed off, not able to finish the sentence himself.

Natalie leaned over and hugged her flabbergasted husband.

"Welcome to the Daddies club Timothy McGee," Natalie whispered into his ear.

And though Tim would deny it later, would say it was just the last residual effects of sleeping poorly for the last few days, after hearing those words leave his wife's mouth, Tim couldn't do anything else but lean his head against his wife's shoulder and cry.

Because even after five years, almost six, of Tony being gone, the first person that he had wanted to call with the news hadn't been Gibbs, Abby, Wilson or even Ziva.

_And maybe if you're lucky Probie, after you jump off the cliff, someone might just follow you right over. _

I hear you, McGee thought as he smiled and kissed his beautiful wife, Hear you loud and clear Tony.

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**A/N2: What do you think of Gibbs' boat's name? Love it hate it? What about the chapter? I love hearing from you guys. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: First I would like to say I am soooo sorry for making you guys wait. School was a pain and then some stuff came up (I shall not bore you with details). Anyway, here is the next chapter.**

* * *

Chapter Five

McGee rotated slowly in his chair. Three weeks later and he still couldn't get over the fact that he was going to be dad.

It was like he was floating on a cloud. Sure, McGee was pretty sure the all encompassing fear of the situation was soon to come but at the moment, Tim was just basking in the realization that all his dreams, of marrying a beautiful women and having a family, were actually coming true.

And sure, there was a small part in Tim somewhere that wanted to fine all those bullies in high school and junior high and rub this in their faces. Because right now, he was the luckiest man on the planet.

"McGee?" Dwayne called out, "Do you have any paper clips?"

"What?" Tim asked, spinning around to fully face his co-worker and friend, "What do you need paperclips for?"

"Um," Wilson shifted nervously, "To clip some papers together."

Raising an eyebrow in disbelief but deciding to go with Dwayne's excuse anyway, McGee opened his desk drawer looking for the asked item.

"Hold on," McGee said, digging through the top drawer in his desk. What were all these pink papers-

The messages the PR lady had given him. Tim picked the messages up before snagging a paper clip. Chucking it at Dwayne across the office, Tim opened the first one, silently berating himself for forgetting all about the messages that the lady had worked so hard to get to him.

The first one was not of great importance, his sister had called in but he had spoken to her since the date written on the pink paper so Tim crumpled it and threw it in the trash.

The second and third ones were from Tim's editor looking for him at work even though Tim had told her he wouldn't be able to get another manuscript out till the end of the month.

Weighing his options in his mind, Tim threw those messages in the trash too.

Happy that there was only one more message left, Tim quickly scanned over it, hoping it wasn't too important. Reading over the message, Tim typed in the case number written on the message. What was a person doing calling about some cold case-

"Gear up," Gibbs called out, striding into the office, "Dead sailor."

"Um Boss," Tim breathed out. Keep calm, he mental told himself, keep calm…

"What McGee?" Gibbs asked, drinking slowly from his coffee cup as he looked at his agent. Getting a better look at Tim however, Gibbs frowned. The boy was whiter than a sheet, "McGee, what's wrong?"

"Um," Tim swallowed very hard, trying very hard to appear calm, "I-I-"

"Spit it out Tim," Gibbs said, but there was no heat behind his voice, "What's got you stuttering?"

"I got a message," Tim said. _Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth, remember it might be nothing, it might be-_

"And?" Gibbs prodded, "What about the message?"

Seeing that something was obviously wrong with their senior field agent, both Ziva and Dwayne neared their friend's desk, their gear in hand.

"The message," Tim said, _No damnit he wasn't going to cry-_ "It's…it's about-"

"About what McGee?" Gibbs barked out. He wasn't frustrated, not in the least, but Gibbs' worry for his agent might appear as so, "What is the stupid message about?"

Tim swallowed again and looked up at Gibbs. Seeing the wetness in his eyes, Gibbs felt the hairs on the back of his hair rise.

"Tony."

* * *

"Did they leave a return number?"

"Yes but the call was received from a pay phone. All we have is an area code and the phone number."

"That's something right Gibbs? Vance will let you open Tony's case with that right?" Abby said, moving around the lab with an energy Tim hadn't seen her with since she had given up Caf-Pows which coincidentally, had been around the same time Tim had stopped actively looking for Tony.

"Yes Abby," Gibbs said, looking at the single message that held the only lead they had ever had on Tony's case, "But Paris is not just a mere drive away. We'll have to wait-"

"Paris?" Ziva asked, "You received a call from France?"

"No," Tim shook his head, "Paris, Texas. The area code 903 covers other cities but I was able to trace the pay phone to that city. I tried getting a hold of someone in the city but no one picks up the phone." Tim huffed with annoyance, "Small towns."

Gibbs raised a single eyebrow, "I came from a small town McGee."

Tim shook his head, "No I-I didn't mean it that way Boss, it's just," Tim shrugged again and sighed, "Anyway, I have our tickets for tomorrow morning. It's not direct but," Tim just shook his head again. He needed to go home. He needed to call Natalie to make sure she was okay and he needed to make sure that Probie had enough food so Natalie wouldn't have to do anything to strenuous while he was gone and he needed to call his sister and see if she could stay over for a few days and help his wife and then he still had to pack but what was it like right now in that part of Texas since it was March-

"McGee," Gibbs practically yelled, laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder. The tone of voice he used told McGee that he had been called his name more than once.

"Yeah Boss?" Tim said, making sure not to look at Abby, Dwayne or Ziva. He couldn't handle this. Not right now. He needed to get home and check the weather and then he needed to print out the tickets for him and Gibbs. So much to do, so little time.

"We'll leave as soon as we wrap up this case," Gibbs said firmly but with a hint of something Tim identified as gentleness in his voice. When Tim went to open his mouth Gibbs raised a hand, "We can't just decide to take a last minute break right after we received a case, especially if this is just a wild goose chase. Now we have a murder case to solve. Is that understood?"

The team nodded, each unable to speak knowing if they did it would only be to argue with their team leader.

Seeing the rebuttal in each of his team member's eyes, Gibbs just shook his head and dismissed the team before another word could be said.

"Tim?" Abby practically whispered when everyone else had left the lab.

"Yeah Abby?"

"One thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight days," Abby said, going to her desk and lifting the board. The number was written on it in bold black numbers, "That's how many days it's been since I've seen Tony."

"Abby-"

"No Tim," Abby said, slamming the boarding down on the desk. The sound echoed in the lab, causing Tim to flinch back in pain almost, "I know you have to go but before you say anything, I want you to listen."

Fearing her wrath if he spoke again, Tim just nodded his head.

"Everyday when everyone but Gibbs is gone, I go to that drawer, pick up this board and write the new number on it. One thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight days. That's over five years Tim. Five years, five months and nineteen days. And you know what you did for over half of all those months, over half of all those days Tim?"

Tim shook his head, his shoulder slumping in defeat.

"You looked for him," Abby started crying, using one hand to wipe her face, "You looked for Tony everywhere. Searched and searched and you never asked for help. Never asked for anyone to help you even when Gibbs tried to help you, even when I tried to help you. You never asked and we never pushed to help you."

"Abby that's-"

"Please Tim," Abby raised a hand, her earlier anger gone, "Let me talk."

Tim wanted to hug her, wanted to pull her up in a hug and make her stop what he feared she would say.

"You don't live in a vacuum Tim," Abby breathed, her tears stopped momentarily, "Every action you do affects everyone of us. No man is an island."

"Therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls," Tim replied, recognizing the words from John Donne, "It tolls for thee."

Abby huffed rolling her eyes slightly at McGee's geeky-ness, "Yeah, something like that."

Tim smiled slightly and Abby returned it, even though hers was fractionally smaller.

"We all knew what you were doing," Abby continued, "And when you finally stopped, after you got shot," Abby finally stepped forward and gave Tim a bear hug.

"I never blamed you Tim," Abby buried her head in Tim's chest, "I never blamed you for anything. I just hope you never-I'm just sorry I never-"

"Ssshh," Tim said, holding her in his protective embrace, not caring that Gibbs would probably be angry that Tim had not made his way up to the garage yet, "You have nothing to be sorry for Abby. It was nobody's fault."

Abby and Tim held each other much like they had did so long ago when they had first realized Tony was missing.

One thousand and nine hundred and ninety eights ago.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys like it (I wrote most of it at one of the many doctor's appointments I had to attend this past two weeks) and thanks to all those who are reviewing and reading. You guys rock.**

**Next chapter WILL be up no later than Friday. I promise. Even if I have to use the doctor's wi-fi to get it to you guys! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This my dear readers and reviewers, is the end. Or the beginning of the end (or is it in fact, the end of the beginning?). Thank you all for reading and writing and lurking. Some will not like how it ends. Some might. Some might need tissues while others will need stones to through at me (be aware I will only provide the former). Not matter what though, I enjoyed every review. :)**

**Epilogue will be posted Sunday.**

* * *

Chapter Six

"Tim?"

"Tim are you alright?"

Tim, who had been sitting in front of his type writer for the past hour, just shook his head, working hard not to break down right that moment.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Natalie came in the office and sat down carefully next to her husband, "Bad case?"

"Um, no," McGee shook his head, grabbing Natalie's hand when she placed it on his thigh, "It's um, it's a pretty straightforward case. But um, today, today I was looking through messages I had received when we went on our honeymoon and most of them were just random things that didn't really mean much but the last one, it was…um…you remember Tony?"

"Your old partner? The one that went missing a few years ago?" Natalie asked hesitantly. Tim was never like this. Natalie worked hard to push down the dread that slowly rose up from her heart. If Tim had found out anything-

"Well," Tim sighed, smiled slightly, "One of the messages was about him. I mean, the message didn't ask for anything specific, just more details on a missing case. Tony's missing case. And we just need to finish this case before Gibbs will let us look into the message."

"Why would Gibbs…" Natalie trailed off, looking at her husband for an answer, knowing she didn't have to finish her statement for McGee to understand.

Tim just shook his head, "I don't know."

* * *

Gibbs had to pace himself. Too many drinks to quickly would give him an awful hangover tomorrow, even if he was by all standards a harden drinker.

But the day had called for bourbon, his boat and his basement.

And since had finished Tony's boat a long time ago, Gibbs didn't have anything to keep his hands busy- except of course, the bottle of bourbon.

Gibbs stood, his fingers trailing over the name. It was a beautiful boat. One that deserved to be admired.

But Gibbs hadn't wanted to share it and after a drunken night of almost setting the thing on fire, Gibbs had realized that this would probably be the last boat he ever built.

Tony's disappearance was different that Shannon and Kelly's death.

With their deaths Gibbs had been able to take revenge, even though it hadn't helped much, but then in their case he had known. He had put their bodies in the ground and had known where they were. With them, they're had been no hope of every seeing them again.

At least not in this life.

But Tony was different. At that thought Gibbs huffed.

If Gibbs could sum Tony up with one word it had to be that: different.

From the first day he had known the young detective, Anthony DiNozzo had done everything differently. From the way he interrogated to the way he had first talked to Gibbs. The boy had been an oxymoron wrapped in a conundrum that hid behind a façade so thick Gibbs had sometimes wondered if even Tony himself knew where one ended and the real Tony began.

But now that he was gone, the pain in his chest when he thought about Tony was different than when he thought about his wife and daughter.

Not to say he didn't consider Tony family. Because he did. It just wasn't in the traditional father/son kind of way. It wasn't less or more.

It was just different.

Gibbs set the cup down a bit too hard, feeling some of the liquor trail down his hand.

"Aw hell," Gibbs mumbled, rubbing his face. He wasn't going to cry damn it. It was the liquor.

Because when Gibbs was drunk, he tried to be honest with himself. And if he was honest with himself, he knew that the reason he was keeping everyone away from that clue concerning Tony's case was because he was scared.

Because Gibbs knew he couldn't handle another disappointment.

Couldn't handle having the small hope that Tony was still alive be flamed into something more.

Couldn't handle it if they found out Tony was dead.

Not after five years.

* * *

Tim typed furiously at his keyboard. It had taken another day before the team was able to wrap up the case but to Tim, it had been two days to many.

Tim glanced up and watched as Gibbs jogged up the stairs towards Director Vance's office. He hoped that his boss was asking the director for permission to pursue the lead, however small it might be, for Tony's case.

But Tim figured that as soon as he finished this final report and printed it, it didn't really matter what the director or Gibbs said. He was going to look into that phone call. Abby had already started investigating the phone call the day before. Tim had asked her about it this morning but other than getting a hold of a secretary who had been pretty useless in helping them, Abby hadn't been able to make any headway.

Tim glanced at the clock. He should call his wife to see if she was okay and if she wouldn't mind him staying late tonight. There was some part in him that didn't even want to ask, a part that just wanted to send her the text saying _Working late tonight,_ but if Tim had learned one thing from all this was that obsessions should never take precedent over the people you love. It was only when the obsession were about people you love that things got muddled.

"I will be right back," Ziva stood, setting her report on Tim's desk. Since Tim was senior field agent, his reports took a longer time to write, mainly because he had to read over Wilson and Ziva's reports before submitting all of them to Gibbs, "If Gibbs asks where I am, I will be down in Abby's lab."

Wilson nodded from his desk across the bullpen, before glancing at Tim knowingly. Wilson might still be a bit green around the edges but he was smart and observant, "Don't start without me."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, looking from Wilson to McGee, "We will not start until everyone is there."

Tim nodded his thanks, before sending a small grateful smile Wilson's way. Kid was smart no matter what those stupid tests said.

A few minutes later, McGee heard Wilson stand and place his report on his desk, "I gotta go do something before I head down to Abby's lab okay?"

"Don't be late," McGee answered back, a bit harshly than he intended.

Wilson though seemed to take it all in stride, "I won't," the probie agent said before disappearing down the hall.

McGee had no idea where the agent was going nor did he want to think about it at the moment. He had everyone's report and thankfully, he had been telling the truth to his wife when he had said that this had been a pretty straight forward case.

Well, as straightforward as murder cases can be.

Ignoring the ringing of his office phone, Tim didn't know how many minutes passed until he was running the final spell check on his report.

McGee hit the print button, waiting for it to print before gathering up his and his teammates' reports and placing them in the file on Gibbs desk.

He was just sitting down to lock his computer when he heard the voice.

"Probie?"

Tim cringed. Not again.

He was under too much stress. Tim knew that too much stress could cause this sort of thing. Really, hallucinating a missing friend in the safety of your own home was one thing but to have that ghost follow you to work, especially when you were headed off to _search_ for that missing someone, was too much for Tim to bear.

"Tim McGee?"

McGee stilled at that. Tony's ghost had never done that before.

Was he slowly going crazy?

McGee turned slowly.

"Tony?" McGee asked, taking in the sight of the ghost in front of him. Only this time he was actually looking at Tony, not glancing over him because he wasn't real.

Seeing Tony standing there, a series of images flashed through Tim's head.

First, Tony as he had been five years ago, laughing and joking with him right before he dived into the woods, never to be seen again.

Then Tony as Tim had imagined him, unaffected by time and looking at him with those understanding eyes, looking a lot like the Tony Tim had first met when he had joined the team, before the plague and Kate dying and bombs destroying sailors and people leaving.

And finally, Tim saw Tony as he was now, his once full head of brown thick hair thinned slightly and peppered with salty colors and his usually smooth face, covered in a light beard, it too colored in multiple shades of gray. And his eyes, which had always seemed to be filled with mischief, fun and secrets never to be told, now only held a bit of uncertainty and something Tim had never seen before.

"Hey," Tony smiled, looking a bit sheepish. He kept rubbing a leash of some sort between his hands and Tim would normally have looked to see where the other end was but at the moment, he didn't dare take his eyes off of _this_ Tony, afraid _this_ Tony might leave if he so much as blinked.

Tim didn't say anything, to afraid his voice, heck even too strong of breath, would break whatever miracle had descended upon him.

Even this older version of Tony didn't say anything, instead he continued to play with the leash in his hands, also never taking his eyes off the other man.

Somewhere in his brain, at least the part that was still rationally thinking, Tim was reminded of a quote his father had read to him long ago, his deep baritone voice seeming to thunder against him as his father held his son against his chest after so long away from home.

"_As happens sometimes,"_ his father would start, even though Tim was still crying and clinging to his father shirt, breathing in his father's smell, feeling his father's heart beat steadily and strongly against his much smaller body.

"_A moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment,"_ and his father would pause, waiting for his son to stop crying no matter how long it took. For the next part was Tim's favorite and no matter how many times his father left or when he returned he always let Tim help him say the next part.

"_And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment," _and here Tim's breath would hitch, had hitched every time he had said it, from the very first time his father had taught him the saying when he was just five years old to the last time Tim had ever held his father.

And here Tim would stop, because it was his father's job to finish it. He had been the one to start it and he always finished it, just like he had done with his last breath in that hospital bed.

"_And then the moment was gone."_

"Tony?" Tim whispered, adding nothing and taking nothing away from the statement.

"Yeah?" Tony's response was hesitant but his eyes shone with the same intensity that Tim had always remembered. And…_there. _Even if the mischief and fun were gone Tony still had that secret twinkle in his eye, as if he had figured something out long ago and knew that it should never be told to anyone.

Tim had to choke out the next words because he was still afraid and hopeful and utterly and completely desperate because if this wasn't it, if this wasn't what he thought it was, Tim would surely fall apart.

"It's really good to see you again."

As Tim finished the statement, he held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But it never did.

Tony smiled slightly, his lips lifting and the corners of his mouth going back, "Glad I found you," Tony said quietly.

But Tim still didn't move, some part of his brain still yelling that this was a trick, a joke, a ploy by his own subconscious to fool him into thinking…

But then, when Tony finally let the smile reach his eyes and envelope his whole face in the smile that was completely and utterly Anthony D. DiNozzo, Tim knew the truth.

Because only Tony would be found the same way he had become lost.

Unexpected and life changing all wrap in one event that left Tim reeling.

Because that was Anthony DiNozzo.

That was Tony.

So when Tony took one step towards Tim, Tim did the only right thing and met him halfway.

And suddenly, Tim understood why his father had loved the end of the saying.

Because when one moment was gone, another one took its place.

And sometimes as happens in life, you were just lucky enough that the next moment would be better than the one before it.

And right now, as Tim held a man he hadn't seen in over five years and breathed in Tony's smell and felt Tony's beating heart against his own and felt the man breathe and held him close enough to finally feel everything that was Tony again, this was one of those times. Because soon, he would ask a question he didn't know the answer to and Tony would answer, and Tim would try to understand what had happened.

It might not be enough for five years.

But for the moment, it was enough.


	7. Epilogue

**A/N: I've gotten many PMs asking if this is the end. So, to answer all of you in one bid swoop: Yes. This is the end. But just to Tim's story. Tony's story is next, though his will take awhile to write and more than likely will not be as linear as Tim's story was. Becasuse McGee is linear. Tony is not. **

**Be on the look-out for Tony's story. Its going to take me awhile and don't expect them up in the near future but they'll come up but at the moment I have another story that I am working on. **

**I would like to give a HUGE thank you to all you guys for sticking with me. It was about four months ago that the first story was posted. WOW. You guys rock and I am glad you enjoyed this little tale.**

* * *

Epilogue

Tim knew that five years of waiting could not be solved in a few short moments of seeing each other. People had change, himself included, and Tim would be ignorant to not catch the ring on Tony's finger, or the dog that was currently sitting at Tony's side, a walking brace of some sort harnessed on the big black Labrador's back.

Tim had feared the worse, the handle connected to the dog's back reminding Tim too much of the harness that blind people use.

But Tony's green eyes, and Tim had forgotten how green they were, were sharp and quick and had followed him as he had sat down, his green eyes twinkling with a secret that Tim hoped to learn.

Tony himself had changed, his face softening gracefully as the man hit his mid-forties and Tim could see the scars on the left side of his head, the lines looking like spider webs as they weaved their way around his head, stopping short just before his left eye.

His walk was different too, and he held onto the dog's handle as he walked a bit slowly towards the chair Tim pulled out for him. Different.

Tony was different.

Even the way Tony dressed was different, as if the man that had gone into the woods that day was still there, wandering around hoping someone would come and find him. The Tony Tim knew did not wear jeans or button-down flannel shirts, or well worn scuffed boots.

The Tony Tim knew did not let his insecurities show so plainly on his face. The Tony Tim knew did not glance around anxiously, as if he were actually nervous.

But Tony was here. Alive.

And when the rest of the team came, because he had called them, they would see Tony too.

Tim couldn't wait to see their faces.

* * *

From the scattered pieces of Tony's memory, he figured he didn't like certain things.

He didn't like red or those mazes with trap doors, and he most certainly didn't like blue lights.

He didn't like small spaces that were dark and hazy and he didn't like riding in the back seat.

He didn't like snow and he didn't like the way black coffee tasted on his tongue when he knew he should have been drinking tea instead.

He didn't like putting his face into the spray of a warm shower, didn't like that when the beads of warm hit his face that he always felt the urge to cry.

He didn't remember much, Tony knew, because he could feel the holes.

Like pot holes in his memory, bottomless pits in which things would go in and never come back from.

But as inconvenient as pot holes were, they didn't stop most from continuing on their journey to…somewhere.

Because Tony remembered.

He still remembered he loved the smell of bourbon and wood and watching someone shaped it into something that could be useful.

He remembered he loved Jazz, and when he could, he had loved to dance and watch movies and eat pizza on the back porch at night.

He remembered he loved to sing, his voice loud and clear as he sang along to any music that took his heart and made it beat faster.

He remembered he liked campfires, but not the normal ones, and he liked to joke and laugh and see if he could come up with a movie quote for everything.

He remembered he liked the rain but could never run it in again, and he remembered that he liked to play Tetris even when he shouldn't be.

He remembered falling into the sky but not being afraid and jumping into the blue and fearing for not his, but _someone's_ life.

He remembered that he could fight, punch and weave, could use a gun to kill, to protect and to save, and that he use to run fast, on a field and on the street, his feet hitting the pavement fast and sure, each step moving him closer to…to….someone.

Back then, when everything was muddled up and when he still could, Tony would run.

He always thought someone had done the leaving with him, had left and never looked back.

It had hurt, but Tony remembered that he knew how to get over hurt like that, that you changed and bended, because people left and "_nothing is forever Anthony"_ and people die or choose to go away and if you didn't bend, "_you will break Anthony. Do not be a tree that breaks."_

Tony didn't remember specifics, most of the time he didn't remember places and names from before, but Tony remembered this, remembered _Probie_ and remembered why he had worked so hard at finding this place.

And he hoped, as the elevator doors opened and people exited from it, people who felt and looked like _home,_ that he would have enough answers for them.

But in his heart he knew he wouldn't have answers, probably never would have all the answers they deserved.

But he would try to explain how he didn't remember anything till it was too late to remember that he should have known, and that by then he had been too lost to even be found.

He would try to explain how he had found a family, and how he had protected them, almost dying but not regretting one moment of it.

He would try to tell them that for years he had kept that Navy officer's coin in his pocket wherever he went and that somehow, it made him feel close to them, even though he didn't remember who they were.

He would try to explain that even though he hadn't always been happy, he had a wife and a family and a dog and a house and a life now, and that he was happy and safe and that he hadn't forgotten about them, even when he couldn't remember them all the way.

And he would try to explain why he had looked for them and how he had found them, how his search had started all because he had heard a story from his neighbor and how she had helped a man with a dog named "Probie" and how he had been so afraid then that _he _had done the leaving and how he had finally used the coin and what he knew and remembered to find them and how he wondered if they had been looking for him too.

And when the time came he would try to explain that he would have to leave, to go back to them, to the family who had found him.

He would try to explain all this to them, but he knew he would get things wrong along the way.

He didn't know all the answers. Probably didn't have the right questions.

But Tony would try.

And hopefully, it would be enough.


	8. Update

Everyone! The time has come.

After much deliberation, inner turmoil, sobbing at all hours of the day and banging my head against the wall, the next installment is READY!

It's called "_The Unknown Song_" and should be up within the hour!

It's Tony's turn to tell his story and by design, it will be confusing.

Once again, **THANK YOU **to all those who review and read this story. Because of you guys this story has gone this far!

I look forward to what you guys think of the first part in Tony's story so keep those eyes open O.O and review! I cherish reviews like I cherish passing grades in college.

**Now, be off with ye!**


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